


The Best

by DarkBlueSocks



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, hot dog - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-19 00:22:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11885997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkBlueSocks/pseuds/DarkBlueSocks
Summary: During a somewhat awkward lunch, you have the sudden realization that you are in love with Bruce Banner. But that just makes things more awkward probably





	The Best

It was easy to tell, or at the very least guess, that you didn’t eat hotdogs on a regular basis. And you didn’t. Usually you didn’t even eat lunch, deciding that the useless consumption of food midday hindered your work and forced you into awkward situations with… well, basically any human interaction was awkward. But your cravings for the disturbing, meat-like substance sold within bread and covered in sauce had caused you to line up with fellow, like-minded, soon-to-be hotdog eaters at a small stand reasonably distanced from your place of work.

The man dishing them out barely even glanced at you as he squirted an unnatural amount of tomato sauce over the ‘dog’. But you didn’t really want to be looked at right now. No, it had taken you twenty minutes to make the decision to come out and get one and even then it was only because your cravings were basically threatening to consume your stomach lining if you didn’t appease them. Even so there were still two major negative thoughts revolving around your head about what your purchases said about you as a consumer. Hotdogs said ‘hey, I know my metabolism has at least a few good years left’ as much as they said ‘I don’t really  _need_ to look like Natasha Romanoff’.

Natasha Romanoff. That gorgeous bitch. As her friend you were both jealous of her looks, and her ability to work out without bursting into tears.

Biting into the hotdog was enough to make you forget every negative thought you had ever had about them, and probably every negative thought you had probably ever had in your life too.

It was so good. Disgustingly good. Or maybe just disgusting. But also good. You had to sit down on a park bench in order to appreciate it without having to concentrate on things like standing.

About halfway through the miracle hotdog, you started to notice that your hand was absolutely covered in sauce while the hotdog itself was somewhat lacking in it now. Niggling at the back of your mind was the temptation to dip the hotdog in your hand sauce. It would be killing two birds with one stone – but wouldn’t it just come off as really sad to whoever happened to glance at you in that moment? Did you really want to transition from messy eater, eating a hotdog like it was giving her life, to sad messy eater, rubbing hotdogs on herself?

The answer was closer to ‘maybe’ then you wanted to admit.

Before you could go through with the action though, a napkin was dropped over the sauce patch. A glance to your left revealed the napkin dropper to be none other than your work colleague and very occasional friend – Bruce Banner, wielding a coffee and a second napkin.

             “I’m sorry.” Bruce said, something not unlike a smile trying to tug at his lips but ultimately failing in a grin. “I could see what was about to happen and I couldn’t let you go through with it.”

You almost laughed at that. But mostly you wanted to crawl into a hole forever at the thought of what your male colleague could have witnessed.

Without invitation, Bruce somewhat awkwardly perched himself beside you on the bench. The action was slow, like when an old man sits down, but given Bruce’s age you could assume it was more hesitance than back pains. Once seated he seemed utterly lost as to what to do with himself. He brought his coffee to his lips but returned it to his lap without taking a sip. He repeated this action a second time. The third time he actually consumed liquid, but frowned at the suction-like noise his cup had made as it echoed loudly in your quiet surroundings.

He was unlikely to make the mistake of actually drinking again.

All while this was happening, you found yourself rather struck by Bruce’s appearance. It wasn’t bad, or different in any way to how it normally was. It was the same kind of baggy clothes with a colour palette that reminded you of dust even when he wasn’t dusty. He had the same unkempt hair and soft, almost nervous eyes. But it was as though everything about him was suddenly different in that moment. As though you were seeing him for the first time.

And you very much liked what you saw.

              “You know, Bruce. You aren’t unattractive.”

That was not what you wanted to say  _at all_.

Bruce seemed thrown off by your almost-compliment too. He very briefly made eye contact, and for a moment you thought he was going to pretend to take a sip again before he murmured; “…thank you?”

You had to try and save this.

              “So…” you tried to think of something clever to say, found nothing, and then decided to just ask him in a roundabout way if he was single. “Are you sad and single?”

              “I’m not sad about it…” Bruce begun, until the true meaning of ‘sad’ within the context seemed to dawn on him and he gritted his teeth.

Gritting his teeth was a clear sign that he was more than a little annoyed at your comment. This made you feel more embarrassed than terrified at the possibility of being beaten to a pulp by some green dude. How was it that you had gone from eating a  hotdog, to being in love with Bruce Banner while eating a hotdog, to feeling rejected in your love of Bruce Banner (also while eating a hotdog)?

              “I’m sorry.” You whispered, so softly he didn’t hear you.

You finished your hot dog in silence and Bruce made no further attempts to continue with his coffee, instead letting it go cold. It was agonizing to be with someone you liked after you had just made an ass of yourself in front of them. Especially since it was Bruce, he was so nice. When he wasn’t… smashing things. Smashing things like your heart. You wished you had never realized you liked him. That would have made everything so much less awkward.

Muttering your apology again, this time so he could hear it, you rose from your seat without even looking at Bruce. Your gaze was set ahead, at what was surely to be a long and awkward journey back since he probably didn’t want to speak to you, but you still had to go in the same direction.

              “Uhm,” Bruce begun reaching out a hand to stop you, his touch against your wrist wasn’t electric as one might assume. But it was warm and comforting and in that moment you could think of nothing worse than him letting go again. “This was…nice, sort of.” The ‘sort of’ was your own doing. You had totally blown it before you even knew ‘it’ was a thing, but he was still talking. “Maybe we could do this again sometime? I can make sure to bring more napkins.”

              “I would really like that, Bruce. The doing this again thing, I mean. Not sure about those napkins.”

              “You gotta have napkins.” Bruce pointed out, gesturing to your hand that was still slightly red from sauce. “Who knows what weirdly messy food you might try and eat tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. You smiled at the thought and decided this was probably the best part of your day, besides the hotdog.


End file.
